Tang Yu placed the little paper effigy on the desk.
The desk was cluttered with items players had bought. When Tang Yu gave out the task, he didn’t specify what the items should look like. These were clearly chosen by players based on personal aesthetics—mostly cool-toned colors. Blue appeared the most. Maybe one of those two players really liked blue.
Shen Junxing’s lunch box stood out among the cool-toned items with its warm goose-yellow color.
It was the only object tied to a past home. Seeing the container reminded Tang Yu of shopping with Shen Junxing at the supermarket.
That memory glowed warm yellow, shelves brimming with products. Shen Junxing was carefully comparing items in front of a shelf. Even though online shopping is convenient now, Shen preferred going to the supermarket. He’d always ask for Tang Yu’s opinion after picking something.
Tang Yu would always say, “Whatever,” “Anything’s fine,” “You decide.”
“This is our home,” Shen Junxing once said with a growing smile, “How can I be the only one to make decisions? What if I decorate it in a way Little Yu doesn’t like and he runs away?”
The memory ended there.
Tang Yu pushed the yellow box aside and silently sorted the other things on his desk.
He unwrapped a new calendar, flipped it to August, and marked a red circle on the 30th.
August 30th is this year’s Ghost Festival.
It’s also his parents’ memorial day.
The crying paper effigy was placed beside the calendar. Tang Yu glanced at it, his face emotionless, but his blue eyes seemed sadder than the doll’s.
I think I’ve lost my home again.
Mom, Dad…
The wet little paper effigy stared at Tang Yu. The dorm was silent except for the soft rustle of paper.
Before Tang Yu could look toward the source, a message notification chimed.
Shen Junxing: “[image]”
Tang Yu frowned and opened it. When he saw the image, his brows lifted slightly, and his blue eyes widened a bit.
It was a photo of a small black cat lying on the ground, belly-up, showing its soft paws. Its green pupils were slitted by sunlight.
Shen Junxing: “Little Yu, I saw this cat downstairs. It’s very friendly.”
Shen Junxing: “[image]”
In the second image, the cat stood and rubbed against his pant leg.
Shen Junxing: “It keeps circling my legs.”
Shen Junxing: “[voice message]”
Tang Yu played it. A drawn-out, sweet cat meow came through—obviously a food-begging sound.
Although Tang Yu never owned a cat, he had watched many cat videos and knew what certain meows meant. He even practiced cat sounds himself, though not well—it wasn’t very effective compared to just calling “mimi.”
Tang Yu pressed his lips together and replied, “That meow means it’s begging for food.”
Shen Junxing: “Little Yu is so smart.”
Tang Yu usually carried a small pouch of cat food, but it had been left behind during his rushed move.
He glanced at the two lunchboxes—one from the cafeteria, the other Shen Junxing’s homemade bento. Opening the yellow box revealed a beautifully arranged meal, including a halved soft-boiled egg.
Tang Yu liked those, so Shen often made them.
Tang Yu: “I can’t finish my lunch anyway. I’ll give the egg to the cat.”
Tang Yu: “Keep an eye on it. I’m coming down now.”
The shadows on the balcony retreated. Sunlight flooded the dorm—it was dazzling.
The rustling paper sounds stopped. Tang Yu, focused on taking the lunch down, didn’t notice.
He quickly went downstairs and spotted the black cat nearby. Above its head was a simple name tag: “Black Cat.”
“Mimi,” Tang Yu couldn’t help calling softly.
The black cat, probably drawn by the scent of food, ran toward him and circled his legs, meowing urgently.
“Starving, huh?” Tang Yu crouched down to feed the cat. Usually reserved and quiet, he surprisingly became more talkative in this moment. “Eat slowly, no need to rush.”
Shen Junxing crouched down beside him, his gaze fixed solely on Tang Yu.
His long lashes cast a faint shadow over his eyes, and the sorrow that had once pooled in his blue irises had melted away like thawing snow. Now, they held a soft, watery gentleness.
“So cute,” Shen Junxing said softly.
Tang Yu responded with a quiet “Mm.”
Shen Junxing’s lips curved into a smile. He casually lifted his eyes toward dorm 623. “Little Yu thinks the kitten is very cute too.”
He put a slight emphasis on the words very cute.
Oblivious, Tang Yu was focused on watching the little black cat eat. He examined the cat closely and didn’t spot any signs of illness. Its belly was round and full — it seemed to be taking good care of itself.
As he watched, he couldn’t resist reaching out and giving the cat a pat on the head. Not only did the black cat not shy away, it pressed its head firmly into Tang Yu’s palm.
Tang Yu, caught off guard by the affection, exclaimed, “So well-behaved.”
“This cat has an unusually sweet temperament and is really cute. Didn’t you always want to raise a kitten?” Shen Junxing asked gently, “Do you want to adopt it?”
Tang Yu had always wanted a cat.
It was a wish from childhood, back when his parents were still alive. They had told little Tang Yu that raising a cat wasn’t something easy — when he could take care of a cat properly, they’d go pick one out together.
But then, his parents passed away.
Tang Yu never got that cat.
“It’s hard to keep a pet in the dorm… How about we take it home instead?”
Tang Yu looked down at the cat. In his memory, little Tang Yu had once asked, “What does it mean to be able to take good care of a kitten? Does it mean having a lot of money?”
“Of course not,” his parents had replied. “You just need to learn the basics of how to care for a cat, and have lots and lots of love.”
Tang Yu slowly pulled his hand back.
Seeing his hesitation, Shen Junxing didn’t press. His next words came naturally: “Or maybe not. School’s starting, and you won’t have much time to care for it even if it’s at home.”
Tang Yu opened his mouth, but said nothing. A swirl of thoughts passed through his mind.
It would be best if someone adopted the cat. But even if no one did, with how affectionate it was, it probably wouldn’t starve in a college campus like this. Still, the safety of the cat bothered him.
Cat abuse wasn’t common — but it existed. And now there were players in the world.
The way players treated life made Tang Yu uneasy.
Could he assign a task to the players to take good care of the cat?
Then again, who was he to do that? Just an NPC. What right did he have to assign tasks to players?
Thinking this far, Tang Yu finally called out — even quieter than the cat’s meow — “…Older Brother.”
It had been a very, very long time since he’d called Shen Junxing Older Brother face-to-face in the real world.
Shen Junxing immediately looked up. His glasses caught the sunlight, casting a sharp, blinding white glare. Tang Yu instinctively avoided his gaze, shifting his eyes slightly away to focus on Shen Junxing’s cheek behind the slightly distorted lens.
“Did you know, Little Yu?” Shen Junxing said with a smile in his voice. “Cats don’t meow that sweetly when they talk to their own kind. That kind of sound is something they learned to tame humans.”
The flash of sunlight passed over the lens, and Shen Junxing’s dark, deep eyes emerged again behind the glasses, also smiling. “Just like how you specially called me Older Brother.”
Tang Yu froze in place, a blush slowly creeping up from the roots of his ears. That little secret he had tried so hard to hide was now exposed completely under the sunlight. He saw the corners of Shen Junxing’s lips curl up in a gentle and charming smile.
“Is Little Yu worried about something right now?” Shen Junxing asked softly. “I really want to help ease your troubles.”
“…I.” Tang Yu’s voice was so overwhelmed with embarrassment it barely came out. The hot air trapped inside his mask and the scorching sunlight made him dizzy. “I’m worried someone might abuse the cat.”
Shen Junxing adjusted his glasses with a finger, the eyes behind the lenses carefully observing Tang Yu’s every reaction. Occasionally, a glint of light flashed around the frames—like a flicker of something sinister hiding beneath his warm surface. “Then just assign them a task to take care of it.”
“I’m exactly worried about those people…” Tang Yu said hesitantly.
Shen Junxing replied casually, “All Little Yu has to do is tell them that I’ve fed this cat.” He spoke with such calm confidence, as if manipulating the players’ emotions were as easy as pulling Tang Yu’s strings.
Tang Yu paused, thinking of how the players had been desperately trying to track Shen Junxing. If they found out Shen Junxing might appear in the campus to feed the cat, they’d definitely guard it day and night, making sure nothing happened to it.
That would be good.
That would be enough.
Tang Yu lowered his head and handed the lunchbox back to Shen Junxing. Aside from a missing soy-marinated egg, the rest was just like how Shen Junxing had delivered it earlier.
“I already bought lunch. I can’t eat what you made. Don’t bring me food anymore.”
Shen Junxing didn’t take the lunchbox.
So Tang Yu placed it down by his feet. “…The other stuff in there isn’t safe for cats. Don’t feed it to them.”
After giving this instruction, Tang Yu stood up. He saw Shen Junxing still crouched in front of the black cat, murmuring to it, “Kitty, kitty, I’ll make cat food for you tomorrow, okay?”
Tang Yu paused.
The hungry stray cat was still eating busily, oblivious to human gestures—it wouldn’t tell Shen Junxing to stop coming.
Tang Yu didn’t know what to say. So he simply turned and headed upstairs.
“Little Yu.” Shen Junxing’s voice came from behind. He spoke slowly, each word deliberate: “Even if Little Yu calls me crazy, perverted, a monster—so long as you say the word, I’ll still do it.”
Tang Yu’s body went stiff, as if some well-hidden corner of his heart had been once again exposed under broad daylight.
“Bye~” Shen Junxing smiled and waved goodbye. He watched as Tang Yu’s footsteps faltered briefly. The hand dangling at his side clenched, then relaxed again. Finally, he obediently raised his hand and waved back before disappearing into the building, heading upstairs.
Shen Junxing’s smile gradually faded as Tang Yu moved further away. Even when his face was completely expressionless, he still stood downstairs, holding the lunchbox in one hand and utensils in the other. He looked up, his gaze climbing floor by floor until it locked onto the balcony of Tang Yu’s dorm. Then, his lips parted slightly, as if in preparation to feed.
The still-hungry stray cat meowed for food by his feet.
Shen Junxing licked his lips and murmured, “I’m still starving too…”
A starving cat devours its food in gulps. But once full, it often toys with its prey slowly and deliberately.
To Shen Junxing, Tang Yu was the one he most wanted to devour in his famished state. Yet, because he cherished him too much, all he could bear to do was paw at him lightly, give him a lick with the tip of his tongue.
